


Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

by oyurio



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Fluff, M/M, Rating May Change, Swearing, viktuuri wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-14 23:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyurio/pseuds/oyurio
Summary: "Viktor I swear to god you better fix this or you'll be in the hospital for your shitty wedding," Yuri growled as soon as the beep was heard. He hung up, chucking his phone against the nearest beige colored wall. His leopard print case did its job well, the phone landing safely with a thud despite the abuse it received.





	1. God Knows I Tried

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> I hope you enjoyed what I've written so far...this is my first fic in almost 4 years so I'm a little rusty.  
> I'd appreciate comments and suggestions!
> 
> This fic was inspired by some Lana Del Rey music, each chapter title will be a song of hers that I think matches the events in the chapter  
>  (*´♡`*)  
> I also used istehlurvz's (tumblr) adult!ice designs for reference for Yuri and Otabek. I love her art, definitely check it out.  
> My amazing beta : the-other-waterbender-girl (tumblr)

               Viktor Nikiforov had a nasty hobby of trying to be Russia’s number one match maker. No successful relationship had developed from the man’s attempts to play match maker besides his own with Japan’s number one figure skater Yuuri Katsuki.

               This pesky hobby was usually brought out at the expense of those around him without a significant other. This includes but is not limited to: Mari, Minako, ex-rink mates, other skaters he befriended during his time as both a skater and coach, and even Yakov, who he set up with kindly older woman who couldn't get past how much he swore, drank and yelled. Apparently it was a real turn off on a first date.

                So it certainly should not have been a surprise to Yuri to find another person in his room as he arrived jet lagged from his flight to New York City from St. Petersburg. Yuri had expected a nice, warm, empty bed to sleep in once he arrived at his hotel room after many connecting flights. The cab ride from JFK airport to his hotel sucked the last bit of energy from him. He hadn't expected to find Otabek unpacking his suitcase on his bed; that scenario was the furthest thing from his tired mind.

               The clicking sound of the unlocking faux wood door had caught Otabek off guard, though he relaxed as Yuri entered. Despite Yuri’s latest growth spurt in the spring and his attempted punk appearance, Yuri was the furthest thing from threatening in Otabek’s mind. Yuri was now several inches taller than Otabek, the so called Russian punk filling out his taller frame will muscle after months of training. Yuri’s hair reached mid back, but at current was messily braided for ease during the long travel.

               It suddenly clicked for Yuri as to why Otabek was even invited to the Nikiforov-Katsuki wedding, considering that the stoic man was just barely able to be classified as a friend of the couple. Otabek had only interacted with the couple when Yuri dragged him along, just so he wasn’t alone with the older couple. Even after years, together the pair still managed to display their infatuation for one another as often as possible. Yuri didn’t understand how they did it.

               The wedding that was being held in two days’ time was a surprise to many. After Viktor’s declaration that the happy couple would only marry once Yuuri won gold and the accident at last year’s Grand Prix Final, it was apparent that the expected gold would never come. The injury left Yuuri unable to skate competitively, and his fiancé joined him in retirement later on the following year once the season ended. It left Yuuri heartbroken, his promise to get Viktor a metal worth kissing now unachievable. The date for the wedding was announced a month later after hours of Viktor telling Yuuri that he’d marry him anyways, that he loved him with or without gold, and that he was utterly proud of him.

* * *

 

               Perhaps this is what Yuri gets for trusting Viktor when the groom-to-be said he'd handle all of Yuri's booking. The flight had gone well enough, so he expected a clean room to stay in. The first words out of Yuri's mouth were not anything along the lines of _what are you doing here_ but rather a disgruntled

“Fucking Viktor.”

               Silence pervaded as Yuri dropped his bag onto the single bed in the hotel room, fumbling in the deep inner pocket of his dark grey jacket for his cellphone.

"I'm going to kill that idiot!" Yuri growled through tightly grit teeth, without even a 'hello' to his friend.

               Viktor's name was found and the number was dialed, Yuri pressing hard on the screen, angry that Viktor had attempted to set him up with his longtime (and possibly still) only friend.

The phone rang several times before it was obvious he just got silenced and sent to voicemail. Yuri was fuming as he listened to Viktor’s idiotic voice saying in his accented English, above the barking of a puppy in the background:

_Hi! You've reached Viktor, you know what to do- I'll call you back soon!_

"Viktor I swear to god you better fix this or you'll be in the hospital for your shitty wedding," Yuri growled as soon as the beep was heard. He hung up, chucking his phone against the nearest beige colored wall. His leopard print case did its job well, the phone landing safely with a thud despite the abuse it received.

"It isn't that big of a deal, Yuri," Otabek said, not fazed by what could be considered a tantrum the nineteen-year-old just had over sharing a room. He finished unpacking his things, putting his bag on the floor and out of the way. A book was removed from the side pocket, a well-loved paperback book containing retellings of European fairy tales. It was placed on the end table beside the plush blue chair that looked out over the Manhattan skyline.

"It is a fucking big deal." Yuri snapped back, flopping down on the king sized bed with a loud groan like this was the most awful thing to ever happen to him in his short life. The goose down bedding was nice. If Yuri hadn’t been so pissed, he might have mentally thanked Viktor for such a nice room.

"Yeah."

* * *

 

               It was apparent that Viktor had given Yuri time to calm down before returning the call. His phone buzzed on the floor for a short moment before Yuri got off the bed and grabbed it. Only twenty minutes had passed since he left the voicemail, but that time was spent in silence; rage growing.

               The call was answered with a disgusted, "Explain yourself." As a precaution the volume on the call was turned down in case Viktor began talking about something extremely personal that he didn’t want Otabek overhearing. If Otabek overheard some of the topics he mistakenly talked over with Viktor, he would surely ruin any chance he had with the older man.

"Yuri, you don't sound grateful for this."

               Already Yuri could tell he would have to leave the room to answer in a way that wouldn't peak Otabek’s interest in the conversation. The Kazakh man was currently seated in the blue chair, book opened to where he left off earlier. Otabek had no interest in the view from their 42nd floor room or the phone conversation happening between Viktor and his apparent roommate. 

               Yuri checked his pocket for the keycard, finding it in his back jean pocket, before exiting the hotel room.  He leaned against the eggshell wall, feeling his golden blonde hair sticking to the rough texture of the wall, the hair being pulled lightly from the already loose braid.

"Why would I be grateful?" Yuri asked, leaning forward to unhook his long hair from the textured wall, an exasperated sigh as he did so.

"Because you've been eyeing him since Barcelona. It’s been, what, three years now? Consider it a push in the right direction."

               In the background, but close enough to the phone to barely be muffled, Yuuri scolded his fiancé. “Viktor, let him move at his own pace."

               From how close Yuuri sounded to the phone, one could assume they were cuddling. This was enough to bring out Yuri’s childish fake vomiting sounds to express his disgust. An equally disgusted expression was on his face, despite this call not being a video chat.

"New York might not be the city of love, but it is the city of endless possibilities. I can't make you confess your emotions to him, but have fun. You have that room for a week after the wedding, and I hear Rockefeller Center has a beautiful outdoor rink." The platinum haired man went on to say. Yuri had assumed the odd item that he was requested to bring to the wedding was because Viktor and Yuuri had plans to have a reception on ice. The fake match maker apparently had other plans for Yuri his week in New York City, and it most certainly involved an ice skating date with Otabek.

               For a brief moment, that didn’t sound so bad.

Viktor must have done something to Yuuri, as he was laughing in the background of the call. Yuri made another disgusted face at his phone despite nobody being there to see it.

“Your point?”

“Just go with it and dance with him after the wedding; I’ll tell everyone you’re twenty-one if a bottle of vodka will help that along.”

“Go to hell. I should’ve never talked to you about this.”

“Yuri, I’m trying to help. You’re nearly twenty and have never had a relationship last longer than a month. You’ve let skating consume your life.”

“Go to hell.” Yuri spat, ending the call with an unnecessarily hard press of the button. If Yuri hadn’t been in the hallway of a hotel, the phone would have once again gone flying across to the nearest hard surface.

               Despite Viktor being a complete moron in Yuri’s mind, he was right: he never had a relationship last longer than a month at the most. Normally they didn’t last past a week. Yuri had tried for a while to find someone, even dating members of his own fan club on an occasion or two. They knew him well enough. He had a hard time meeting people and opening up. The relationships never lasted past chaste kisses.

               Meeting Otabek in Barcelona during his senior debut changed his thoughts on relationships, his feelings for the man growing over months of choppy skype video chats and snapchat tours of Almaty and St. Petersburg. They were what Yuri would look forward to all day.

               After practice, Yuri, more often than not, would take some photo of his home rink and send it off Otabek; usually with a caption about how sore he was. This would go on until Otabek said goodnight and Yuri was left alone with his affairs. They would chat about anything they could think of, Yuri doing most of the talking. He found Otabek to be the perfect listener, he could always say just the right things back to help ease a worrying mind. During those hours before he too went to sleep, he was lonely. Yuri found himself missing Otabek and wishing he was there in his empty apartment. His cat was company, but not the kind he wanted.

               The second time Yuri won gold at the Grand Prix was better than the previous year, his senior debut, Otabek won silver. Nothing changed besides who made it onto the podium that year. Being beside Otabek on the podium was what made that year better to him, despite not breaking any records. It was bittersweet. Yuuri Katsuki won Bronze, successfully pushing the wedding off another year. The pair stole a bottle of champagne from the banquet’s bar and drank in Otabek’s hotel room. They stayed up as long as their eyelids stayed open, talking about nothing of importance.

               Otabek gave up the bed that night, allowing Yuri to take while he slept on the couch. However, there was no couch in their room this time.       

* * *

 

               Yuri cursed under his breath, shoving his cellphone back into his pocket. He fished out the keycard, swiping it over the sensor until the light turned green and the door unlocked for him. He latched the door shut, used to staying alone and in much cheaper establishments when travelling.

 What was he going to tell Otabek?

 


	2. Music To Watch Boys To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The argument was settled by Otabek pressing his hand to Yuri’s chest, a slight push being enough to knock the other male backwards onto the bed. He landed on the dozen decorative pillows that Otabek would later toss onto the floor and out of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought?

               Yuri didn’t have much of an idea at all as to what he was going to say to his friend about the rooming situation. As he released the chained deadbolt from his fingers, Yuri wondered if his reaction to the situation had insulted Otabek in anyway. To show so much discomfort with sleeping in the same bed as a friend could be potentially insulting as it was a perfectly normal thing to do with longtime friends. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, like Otabek had pointed out before. It was only a bed, and a big bed at that. They wouldn’t be spooning or cuddling in anyway. Just sleeping next to one another.

               A heavy sigh was heaved by the blonde skater as he entered the main space of the hotel room. Yuri made his way to the wall of large windows, looking out onto the skyline that the view had to offer. He could see the Hudson River; it was peaceful to watch the lights mingle on the water. The skyscrapers in the distance gave for a different feel than his home in St. Petersburg, the change of pace and scenery could potentially be nice.

“Otabek, there aren’t any more rooms.” Yuri informed, the white lie leaving his mouth before he could even stop himself. He bit his bottom lip as if to catch the words in his mouth, but it was far too late, as they were already said. Yuri glanced over at his roommate waiting for a response, only to find him asleep in the chair. Otabek looked comfortable, his book still held open with his index finger despite the book being pressed to his chest.

               Yuri leaned against the window, the cool glass chilling his back, making goosebumps prickle at his skin. The sensation didn’t bother the young skater as he watched his friend’s chest rise and fall rhythmically. He admired Otabek’s softened features that came along with sleep. Emerald green eyes studied his facial features, from his chiseled jaw to his soft, full lips. Otabek reminded Yuri of a sun kissed god, the way his shirt hugged his chest did nothing to help dismiss Yuri’s case. He shook his head to get himself out of that train of thought, muttering to himself to just go to bed.

               Yuri carefully removed the book in Otabek’s hand, wanting to keep the page. Yuri marked the page with a piece of paper torn from the hotel notepad, setting it on the end table beside Otabek.  Yuri grabbed the decorative blanket from the foot of the bed and used it to cover Otabek. It was January, and Yuri was unsure how cold a place like New York would get. He closed the curtains so both of them could continue to sleep after the sun rose; the jet lagged skaters would need their rest.

               Yuri readied himself for bed, feeling no guilt for taking the entire bed for that night. He switched the lights off and he got under the disappointingly thin covers. He mildly cursed at the beam of light that came from under the hotel door from the hallway. As he relaxed into the bed, Yuri suddenly found himself not as tired as he thought, staring blankly into the darkness above him before deciding to check his phone. The light of his phone soon illuminated his face, forcing Yuri to swipe the brightness down quickly. His eyes burned briefly as they adjusted from darkness to brightness to a dull light all within a short span of time.

               He browsed his multiple social media accounts until the digital clock beside the bed read 1:00AM in bright green letters. Though the phone was turned off, plugged in, and set beside the clock, Yuri’s mind didn’t cease to wander to the conversation Viktor and he had earlier that night as well as the one they had almost two years ago.

               Both were a mistake. What was he thinking back then? At the time, giving in and talking to Viktor was better than holding his emotions in. But now it didn’t seem to have been the best choice.

* * *

 

               The May following his sixteenth birthday was a month that contained a lot of late night practices at his home rink in St. Petersburg. During one particular night, the thoughts racing in his mind had caused him to mess up nearly every attempt at a proper step sequence. Yakov instructed Yuri to call it a day, fearing a wrong move could potentially put the young skater off the ice for weeks. No amount of barking orders would resolve multiple failed step sequences, nor would it heal a broken or sprained ankle any faster.

               Viktor had taken a break from coaching his beloved to track down Yuri before he left, catching him while he removed his skates in the locker room. The contrast between heat of the room and the chill of the rink made his nose tingle as warmth returned.

“Yuri, there’s something on your mind,” Viktor said, stating the obvious, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tailor made wool coat.

“Fuck off,” Yuri instructed, glaring at Viktor while he unlaced his skates. Viktor didn’t give up so easily, sitting down beside the emotionally stunted Russian punk.

“I said ‘fuck off’,” Yuri stated again, shoving his feet into his leopard print sneakers. “I don’t want to talk to you of all people about it.”

“Is it because of the new program? The increase of press because of your gold?” Viktor tried, watching as Yuri packed away his things for the day.

               Yuri would have left by now if he really didn’t want to talk, and he would have definitely begun yelling if anything. The teen was very predictable in his unpredictability. With no response, Viktor went on trying to guess what could possibly be bothering Yuri.

“Is it school? What the internet is saying about you and that Kazakh skater, Otabek? Is your fan club getting worked up again?”

               Yuri paused at the last set of suggestions, indicating that one of the last listed items was what was bothering him to that extent.

“Which is it, Yuri?” Viktor urges.

“I clearly remember telling you to fuck off,” Yuri snapped, getting up from the bench. He grabbed his skates and shoved them into his locker, stuffing his hands into his team jacket’s pockets. Leaning against the lockers, his gaze fell to the floor.

“If you don’t talk it out, you could fall and hurt yourself with so much on your mind. An injury and a still growing body is guaranteed time off the ice and a major setback.”

Viktor had a point. Yuri hated when he was right. He gave a huff that said ‘I give up’ before he spoke. “The…Otabek bullshit,” Yuri muttered.

“The hero of Kazakhstan kidnaps the Russian fairy,” Viktor quotes, very familiar with a few of the articles. He was occasionally questioned about it himself. “That headline is just gossip, with time everyone will forget about it.”

Yuri was uncharacteristically silent again. No movement to leave, Viktor went on.

“Is it because of the rumors of a secret relationship?”

“I don’t want them to be rumors,” Yuri stated, pushing away from the metal lockers. That was all Viktor would get out of him that night, but it certainly was enough for the both of them. Yuri left that night feeling much better, even though he only barely mentioned his true feelings. Something about knowing Viktor got it made him feel a lot lighter.

* * *

 

               The seemingly plush blue chair was not as it appeared; in fact, the tired man could easily believe it could be used in some way to torture someone for information. Otabek’s body ached with stiffness, rest interrupted; it felt as though he was laying on a board. A board might be more comfortable the half asleep Otabek mused as he got out of the chair and found his way to the bed. He removed the jacket he had fallen asleep in, giving it a light toss so it would land on that dreaded chair, far too tired to care about being neat. Otabek used the thin decorative blanket to cover himself as he relaxed on the free side of the bed, the sleeping fairy oblivious to his new bedmate.

               Morning came for the pair soon, with Otabek being the first to awake as his internal clock struck 7; even at such an early hour, he briefly felt as if he was late. He didn’t dare move, the sleeping man beside him looking too peaceful to disturb. Waist length blonde hair had been braided back tightly with practiced hands to prevent snarls and knots from forming in his sleep, a habit Otabek failed to keep; his own shoulder length hair needing careful brushing in the morning to remove tangles. He did all this just to toss it back into a messy bun to re-expose his undercut.

               Yuri’s peachy lips were ever so slightly parted while he slept, face relaxed in a way Otabek only occasionally saw. Seeing this gave reason to the nickname Russian fairy Yuri received years ago.

               There had been only one other time the two friends shared a room together: just over two years ago at the Grand Prix Final. They drank champagne from plastic toss away cups provided by the hotel staff in Otabek’s room. They sat on the bed, talking over whatever came to mind. Otabek mostly listened, admiring how his friend’s ocean green eyes would sparkle and his smile would get bigger as he talked about things he loved.

               By the end of the night, the gold medalist was a little more than tipsy, and Otabek insisted he spend the night and take the bed, while he would sleep on the couch. Yuri’s complaints were loud, insisting that he was perfectly fine to go to his hotel room by himself. He insisted upon the fact that nothing could possibly happen to him on his way there. The older skater reminded Yuri how young he was and what could possibly happen to him at such a late hour.

               The argument was settled by Otabek pressing his hand to Yuri’s chest, a slight push being enough to knock the other male backwards onto the bed. He landed on the dozen decorative pillows that Otabek would later toss onto the floor and out of the way.  Otabek’s point was made with this short fall, Yuri giving up after that. He just spread out on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling while he fended off sleep.

               Once the lights were out and both were in their respected sleeping spots, a silence easily fell over them.

“I think I love you, Beka,” Yuri admitted, facing the direction of his friend as if Otabek could see through the darkness.

               He didn’t reply, words choked in his throat. It was easier to fall asleep than to discuss emotions with a drunk man. It left the Kazakh man unsure of his stance with Yuri, his own emotions getting in the way of what was right to say at the time. He opted to fall asleep and talk it over with a sober Yuri.

                 Yuri didn’t remember his words the next morning, acting as if nothing ever happened, the only difference due to the champagne hangover. Otabek never questioned the matter or brought it up, not knowing if it was the truth or just a drunken prank. He didn’t stop mulling over those words late at night as he contemplated his own feelings for the younger.

* * *

 

               Yuri woke that morning to a surprise that made him jump out of bed as quickly as could, foot wrapping in a sheet, making him trip the short way from the bed to the wall. Otabek was in bed with him, a light smile gracing his face as he watched Yuri sleep. Yuri clearly remembered his friend being in the chair. He didn’t understand the reason behind the expression Otabek wore.

               Otabek got off the bed, paying little attention to his friend as he went through his packed clothes for what he needed. He kept it simple, pulling out nicer pieces for that day.  
 

“Today is the rehearsal dinner, yes?”

“Yes,” Yuri said after a moment. The other grunted in response before going to the bathroom with his occasion-appropriate clothes under his arm.

Yuri didn’t relax until he heard the shower turn on.


	3. Summer Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor: Yuri, how did it go after I left? I heard from little birdies that things got interesting towards the end (*´♡`*)
> 
> Yuri sent back a simple text, but it got the point across: It went good.

               The wedding rehearsal dinner was simple and less formal than most guests expected. A banquet hall was rented out and catered by the restaurant within the extravagant hotel that a majority of the wedding guests were staying at. There were small tables throughout the room and a larger one for the grooms and their immediate family up in the front. Each table was set with basic white china, a line of gold around the rim of the plates for detail on an otherwise boring set of dishes.

               Otabek and Yuri sat out of the way, both agreeing they wanted no part in sobbing relatives and so on. Well, Otabek didn’t so much agree as he did grunt.  The happy couple’s invitation to sit at the head table was declined immediately by the Russian fairy. Otabek had no quarrels with sitting with his friend off to the side as it was not often they saw one another outside of completions.

               The groom-to-be lived up to his promise of getting Yuri that bottle of vodka. The blue tinted glass bottle was kept corked on the floor between Yuri’s feet, only being grabbed to refill his shot glass. He chased each shot with drink of orange juice. It was cheap, he could taste it, but cheap vodka was better than no alcohol at all.

“This is bullshit, Beka,” He declared, taking his first shot after salads had been brought out. “I’m old enough to drink in Russia. I should be able to drink here if I please.”

“You must respect the laws of the country that we are in.”

               Scowling, Yuri used his fork to stab the crunchy green lettuce, making a crouton jump out of the bowl and onto the white linen tablecloth. “Doesn’t make it any less bullshit.”

               Joyful chattering filled the banquet hall, soft music playing over the speakers at a volume so low it could barely be heard over the bustling talk of the guests. The blissful music assisted well with the atmosphere of the party. The grooms’ table was full of smiles as the small group talked about the future and equally enjoyable memories of the past. On the left were Yuuri’s parents and sister and on the right were Lilia and Yakov. Viktor’s family was absent at the event. The grooms happily sat between each family, Viktor sipping wine while Yuuri opted for water, not wanting a hangover for their special day nor a repeat of a certain banquet.

               The end of the night was short to come, Yuri not remembering much of it after a few more shots of his drink. By the fourth, he was relaxed and chatting away with Otabek, a smile spread over his face as he addressed whatever came to mind.

“Do you think those disgusting old people up there are getting back together?” Yuri mused; expression relaxed as he spoke inappropriately of his coaches. Poking his spoon at his dessert, the strawberry crème pudding jiggled under the pressure, and the metal spoon clinking against the glass dish as Yuri began to destroy the delicate display. His first spoonful was delicious, getting mostly pieces of naturally sweet strawberry.  “I bet that idiot Viktor tried setting them up like he did us.”

               Otabek halted all movement, spoon still in his mouth after the first delightful bite of his dessert. The fact that Viktor was trying to set them up was news to the Kazakh man. “Why would he be attempting to set us up?” He inquired, putting the spoon back into his own dessert.

               Fifth shot. Another sip of orange juice. He filtered the pulp with his teeth. “Why do you think? He’s under the impression that I like you.” Yuri replied, practically pouting like a child at Otabek as he poured himself a sixth shot. Did Otabek really not make that connection? The chance that Otabek was avoiding the obvious left a bitter taste in his mouth. There was a chance it was just the vodka.

               Otabek mixed the brownies of his chocolate trifle into the dessert with his spoon, careful to keep the metal from hitting the glass. “Why would he think that?”

“Because I told him.” Yuri confessed after taking a drink of juice after having his sixth shot of his vodka.

* * *

 

               Yuri slept comfortably that night, waking up warm and content. His eyes opened slowly, feeling the gentle hold of strong arms around him that was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. The events of the night before came back to him in a rush. He remembered almost everything, the dull pounding in his skull doing nothing to assist his embarrassment as he remembered confessing his emotions to his friend.

               _His exit from the rehearsal dinner was nothing close to grand. Yuri was embarrassed that six shots of cheap vodka had gotten to him so drunk; it allowed him to function and speak unfiltered.  Otabek had carried him out over his shoulder like a ragdoll. Yuri’s actions after his confession were inappropriate for such an occasion and Otabek deemed it time to go._

 _The Russian fairy did not have a problem with this at the time, enjoying his rear view. He admired the view until just before they were at the banquet hall doors. It was hard to resist such temptation when Otabek’s pants were hugging in just right ways. Yuri gave into temptation; after all, Otabek had an equally great view. He gave Otabek’s ass a smack, making the Kazakh man tense up. He wasn’t expecting such an action from his drunk friend. His hold on Yuri tightened as he recovered from the sudden act._  
  
“Wow!” Yuri gasped between giggles, the room getting quiet, his hand giving the area a pat. All eyes were on the pair, as it was hard to believe what they had just witnessed. Otabek said nothing, quick to leave and take Yuri up to their room for the night.

               As he began to cringe at the thought, Yuri’s mind suddenly snapped to the idea that _maybe Otabek hadn’t minded what he did._ He listened to the heart beat of his sleeping partner, just a moment later realizing that Otabek’s breathing wasn’t that of someone who was asleep.

               The blonde pulled himself away and out of the arms of his friend, sitting up in bed with his bare back to Otabek. “Why didn’t you push me away?” Yuri asked, feeling chocolate brown eyes staring him down. He held the cotton white sheets to his chest, practically feeling the gaze devour his form in the moments leading to a response. He didn’t break the silence.

               Otabek’s response was simple, said only after he was done admiring the exquisite view he had. He found it charming how Yuri’s hair fell down his back, messy from sleeping. The light caught the golden strands, reminding Otabek of nothing short of an angel. If he could wake up to this every day in Almaty, life would be easier. Moments like this reminded him of how Yuri got his title of _Russian Fairy_. “I like you close to me, Yura.”

“Oh,” Yuri breathed out, laying back down in bed with his friend, putting his head on Otabek’s chest once more. Otabek’s heart was beating like crazy, he was nervous or maybe excited, and Yuri wasn’t sure which. He was sure that his own was beating faster than normal.

               The corners of Yuri’s mouth lifted to a sleepy smile as he felt strong arms wrap around him again, drawing him close in a mild display of dominance. Yuri laid his head on Otabek’s shoulder as he was brought closer. This was all they needed: it was official without any titles being confirmed.  It was soft, and the moment felt like personified sleepy Sunday mornings. Perfection. Bliss. It washed away any worries they had.

               Yuri was the first to draw away from the hold. It was getting late in the morning and the wedding would begin at one sharp. He was a mess from the night before; he could tell without even looking in one of the many mirrors in the hotel room. He felt the knots when Otabek ran his fingers through his long hair, slowly. It had nearly been enough to make him fall asleep once again. Yuri would need time to recover from the night before.

               He pushed himself up, getting out of the tangle of sheets fairly easily. Without a thought given to it, Yuri leaned down and kissed Otabek’s lips. It was tender and wasn’t meant to be much more than a simple kiss. A kiss to show he agreed to what they had just become. Otabek’s hand held the back of Yuri’s head gently, pulling him closer for more. He’d been dreaming of this for a while now, drawing Yuri with gentle gestures back to the bed with him. If it was acceptable, he would gladly skip the wedding to spend the day kissing his boyfriend.

               Yuri followed directions for the first time in his life as he allowed the intended gentle kiss to turn into something more, but just barely. Otabek’s lips were softer than he ever expected, his stubble scratching Yuri. It made a laugh erupt from the younger of the two, a beaming smile on his face. Otabek was sure he could hear the music of angels as Yuri laughed in his arms. He never wanted to let go. He had love in his eyes, this was a side of the famed Yuri Plisetsky that only few were ever able to see. Otabek wanted to see this part of him often, he wasn’t sure he could recover from a sound he found so angelic.

               Otabek finally allowed Yuri to go free when he calmed down and said he needed a shower, leaving Otabek to his own devices. He didn’t let him out of his arms, however, before more gentle kisses were exchanged. Their lips lingered together, neither truly wanting to part from one another. The kisses left Otabek’s heart thumping once again, butterflies in his stomach as he finally had his answer on if Yuri felt the same.

                Before disappearing into the bathroom, Yuri took his phone from the bedside table. As he turned it on, several dozen notifications were present. His eyebrows furrowed, closing the door to the bathroom. “For fuck’s sake,” he cursed, swiping away annoying alerts, focusing on texts from those at the dinner the night before. He deleted almost all of them, not bothering to give them a response. Yuri paused over a text from Viktor, maybe he wasn’t such a bad match maker after all.

 **Viktor:** Yuri, how did it go after I left? I heard from little birdies that things got interesting towards the end (*´♡`*)

               Yuri sent back a simple text, but it got the point across: It went good.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment, I'd like to know if you liked it or not!


	4. Blue Jeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite how mushy and disgusting he found it, he wondered if Otabek would ever speak so sweetly to him. He wouldn’t want to hear it in public; he’d much rather it be whispered in bed late at night while they’re giving each other sleepy kisses.

               Suits were absolutely the most atrocious thing to wear in Yuri’s book. He hated the layers, the tie, and the uncomfortable shoes he owned for the rare occasions he needed to dress up. But he would gladly wear one if it meant seeing his new boyfriend dressed so nicely. While still in the hotel room, Yuri had sat on the bed and watched Otabek put on almost every layer, unapologetically admiring the physique of the older man.

               Yuri sat patiently on the bed between Otabek’s legs, allowing the other to brush out his hair and braid it however he pleased. He was fully capable of doing so himself, but Otabek’s fingers in his hair relaxed him in ways he didn’t understand. Yuri slouched, legs crossed as he enjoyed the moment between them. He wished for more moments like this.

               Otabek loved the way the braids he created looked in Yuri’s hair, creating a single one on each side of his head. He attempted to create a more formal version of Yuri’s normal style. The braids were attached into a bun he made, leaving the lower layers down and, to his disappointment, the hair Yuri liked on the side of his face that often covered his face. He would much prefer being able to see Yuri’s eyes. As he finished, he moved off of the bed, pulling on his jacket and taking a less formal appearance than Yuri. He took a moment to brush his own hair and tie it back into his normal style.

               They took a taxi; Otabek and Yuri got into the back of the yellow car and told the driver the destination.  Just a short drive from their hotel was the venue for the wedding. It was held in a gorgeous building away from the chilly winter air of the city. The walls were entirely glass, allowing natural light in for the event.

               Viktor didn’t have many friends outside of the skating world, and those who he had were not close enough to him to earn themselves a place among the groomsmen. Yuri wasn’t so lucky, earning himself a spot in the line of groomsmen on Viktor’s side of the altar.  He spent the entire ceremony sneaking glances at Otabek in the crowd of guests. He would avert his again once Otabek noticed him.

               The ceremony was short and sweet, the longest part being the vows given by both grooms which made the other cry big tears as their partner gave a heartfelt speech on how much the loved each other.  Yuri glanced more frequently to Otabek during the vows. Despite how mushy and disgusting he found it, he wondered if Otabek would ever speak so sweetly to him. He wouldn’t want to hear it in public; he’d much rather it be whispered in bed late at night while they’re giving each other sleepy kisses. Yuri’s chest ached at the thought of that not occurring until one of them retired. Just brief vacations to either Almaty or Saint Petersburg until retirement. For now, he mentally thanked Viktor for giving them time to be sleepy in bed together.

               Yuri didn’t pay attention to the ceremony, now lost in the thought of how his new relationship would last despite the distance between them. He was only snapped out of it when music began to play again and the grooms walked down the aisle together.

               A live band performed during the reception, a few of the guests unable to take their eyes off of the woman who sang for the band. A golden dress clung to her curves, just kissing the floor, her hair curled into beautifully placed waves to mimic the movie star style of the 1930s. Her delicate fingers held onto the vintage microphone, giving her fairy like voice an authentic sound to fit their band’s vibe. She sang of love, obviously fitting theme to such an event.

               Yuri swore off booze of any kind for the night after finishing the glass of champagne given to him in order to celebrate. He opted for a different kind of guilty pleasure: carbonated drinks he usually avoided. This, however, didn’t stop those at his table from pouring nips into his drink when he wasn’t paying attention. This wasn’t hard, as Yuri’s attention fixated on Otabek the majority of the night with a smile that not many had seen before. Those at their table watched in awe as a more bubbly side of the young skater emerged as the night carried on.

               Perhaps it was just the cheerful atmosphere of the party or the several nips he unknowingly drank, but the lightweight teen was having the best time he’s had in a long while. Yuri slid his chair up against Otabek’s, pressing close enough to the other to raise some questioning eyebrows from those around them. Paired with the events from the night before, it was no wonder people questioned if the two were in fact an item. Otabek didn’t seem to mind,  welcoming the closeness with a soft smile and a movement of his hand under the table to take Yuri’s hand in his. This was almost enough to stop him from saying what was on his mind at the moment. With a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, Yuri turned to Otabek, putting his arm on his shoulder.

“Beka, did you know that there are eight planets in the universe?”

“Do you mean our solar system?” Otabek corrected, bringing the brown glass bottle to his lips for a swig of beer, not minding how Yuri held onto him.

“I hear there’s only going to be seven after I destroy Uranus.”

               Otabek inhaled sharply, choking on his beer in the process. He slammed his bottle down onto the gold tin wrapper littered table as he attempted to compose himself from Yuri’s sudden and awful pick up line. He almost knocked the bottle over because of the gold coin wrappers. Yuri had called them the cheesiest and most idiotic center piece idea he had ever seen. Of course they were a reference to Viktor’s outlandish promise upon their engagement, and while Otabek saw the idea as creative at the time, now, as he had to catch his beer bottle from spilling, he found them to be as idiotic as Yuri had.

               Of course, eyes were on them from their table and the surrounding two. Yuri had not said this in a quiet way, after all, and the fuss of the beer spilling didn’t do anything to help divert attention away from them. Otabek used his napkin to wipe his mouth, standing up from his seat. He hadn’t composed himself just yet as he pushed his chair in, those around them too quiet for his liking. The golden haired skater was grinning, pleased with himself. Yuri was guided easily to the dance floor by his new boyfriend, holding his hand.

“Did you not like my pickup line, Otya?” Yuri asked, that mischievous smile appearing once again as he rolled the name off his tongue with intent to get a rise out of the older. It worked well, much to his amusement, watching the heat rise to Otabek’s cheeks in reaction to his name.

               Though it was a small dance floor, it was packed, the grooms happily dancing together as if it were the banquet when they met. The newlyweds had little care that their dance style didn’t exactly match the music being played. They laughed. They enjoyed. They kissed. The DJ queued slow songs for the next few songs per request of attendees who hoped the couple could dance well to the new style of music.

               Though excellent on the ice, neither Otabek nor Yuri knew much about dancing on non-frozen ground. As the next song began, Yuri was drawn close to the other with a hand on his lower back. He draped his arms over the other’s shoulders, carefree as he pressed close to his date. They danced like teens at prom, holding onto each other and swaying horribly to the rhythm of the music. It was nice; no, it was perfect. This was something both had thought about, even if they lacked the ability to dance: to just be close to one another after wishing for so long.

“You can hold a little lower, Otya,” Yuri whispered into his ear, the same intent in his tone. His suggestion was forced, Yuri moving himself so Otabek’s hands slid a little lower.

“Wow,” he mocked, in an equally quiet whisper into his partner’s ear, the tipsy man holding the other’s ass. Yuri flushed as memories of the night before came back.

               Undenounced to them, self-hired wedding photographer Phichit captured a shot of the pair with such love struck looks on their faces. A brief mental debate followed for Phichit: the Instagram lover wanting to post such a shocking photo with a caption like ‘ _the hero of Kazakhstan has kidnapped the Russian fairy’s heart????!’_  but opted for keeping the secret, sending the photo off to Viktor as well as Yuri instead. It did not take long for Viktor to break up the moment with questions, his beloved Yuuri in tow. The picture he received peaked his interest enough to stop what he was doing to find the other in the crowd.

“I see you two are having fun. Do you still want a second hotel room or will you be fine with sharing this trip?” Viktor asked, a knowing grin on his face, something that always worried Yuri.

“Sharing is fine,” Yuri deadpanned, now facing the newlywed couple after reluctantly removing himself from Otabek’s strong arms. He looped a finger in one of the belt loops of Otabek’s pants, drawing the older man closer with that light tug like a well-trained puppy.

“Have you been trying to match make again, Vitya?” Yuuri asked with intent to scold, learning just then that Viktor was at it again with the match making. The hero of Kazakhstan kidnapped the Russian fairy once more as Viktor was distracted by Yuuri, whisking Yuri away to their hotel room. He had too many drinks to think properly on the topic of fully coming out, especially during his budding relationship with the Ice Tiger of Russia. Yuri protested leaving the party, though he snagged a bottle of whatever he could get his hands on from the bar as he was towed away by Otabek.

* * *

 

               The taxi ride back to their hotel did nothing to separate the two; upon arriving, the ‘do not disturb’ sign had been hung on their door, both silently agreeing they wanted to be alone. The hotel room was not well equipped for dancing; however, with the movement of chairs to the wall, there was enough room to dance like they had before. Yuri’s phone sifted through a playlist of slow music that the tipsy pair did not pay attention to as they held onto each other. Despite Yuri being the taller of the two, he chose to drape his arms over Otabek’s shoulder like when on the dance floor.

               Their night ended in the early morning, the bottle Yuri had taken half-finished and open on the table. It ended with soft kisses that deepened slowly, fingers lightly tracing their lover’s bodies with rising curiosity. While nothing much came of the night past tender kisses, it felt like the best night yet. Yuri made room in the bed for Otabek, quietly talking about things to do the next day. They laid close enough to each other that there was no real need for two pillows.

“Yura, I heard there are cat cafes here in New York,” Otabek suggested, instantly catching the sleepy blonde’s attention.

“We have to go,” Yuri informed. “This isn’t an option.”

“Mh….”

               They kissed goodnight again, whispering a little more and sharing half asleep laughter, without a care for the time of night. They didn’t wake until late morning, uncharacteristic of both early-to-rise skaters. They spent long after they woke tangled in the sheets together; content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you like it or not, it really encourages me!
> 
> I'm also always up for talking so if you want, message me on my tumblr (oyurio.tumblr.com)


	5. Video Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stood so the bags weren’t in between them, walking with their fingers trailing over one another. Neither wore gloves, the cold winter air nipped at their fingers making them pink.

               Sunlight came through the crack where the curtains came together, streaming onto the bed at an ungodly hour. Yuri pressed his face closer to Otabek’s chest to block out the light of the sun. He grumbled to himself about the bright light that woke him, even though Otabek was still sound asleep. His head ached; all he wanted to do was sleep.

               He breathed a sigh of relief as the other shielded him from the light, lightly grabbing at the fabric of Otabek’s grey wife beater. Yuri had sleepily admired how it hugged Otabek’s upper body so wonderfully and how it so very nicely exposed Otabek’s muscular arms.

               Yuri easily fell asleep again, sleep taking him as soon as he closed his eyes. He didn’t wake again until he smelt the awful smell of burnt coffee filling their hotel room from the coffee maker included in their room. Yuri sat up in the empty bed, glaring at Otabek, though still half asleep. His hair stuck up in random places, evidence of a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning, Yura,” Otabek said, taking the coffee pot to the bathroom to dump out. He returned with a clean pot and fresh water for a second attempt.

“How do you fuck up coffee?” Yuri asked, his nose crinkling in disgust at the lingering smell.

“Like you could do better?” Otabek retorted.

               Yuri got out of bed, walking over the mattress to the end of the bed to do so. Otabek admired how his legs looked briefly: Yuri only wearing leopard print boxers and one of Otabek’s t-shirts. It was not the most fashionable, but it was an ensemble he could get used to very easily. Yuri confiscated the package of ground coffee from Otabek, making the next pot properly.

               Otabek had ordered room service before Yuri had woken, getting two of the lower priced meals. Anything higher in price seemed like too much money for not very much more food. They arrived not long before the new pot of coffee was finished. Yuri opened the curtains, letting in sunlight into the dimly lit room.

               Without the aid of alcohol, the couple was quiet and distant from each other. They ate in silence at the small table by the window, both watching the activity of the city. It was as if now, alone, was too much. Everything before had been riding on the high of a party, and now it was once again a budding romance between two men who were nervous in their relationship. It was a silence that needed to be broken, the events of the night before lingering. It had all been a little too fast for both of the skaters, as neither had ever been in a proper relationship built on something as valuable as their lengthy friendship. It was not going to be an easy translation from friends to boyfriends.  Yuri was the first to speak, poking at his scrambled eggs with his fork.

“I want to see the city with you. Viktor said there was a rink we have to check out. We can just glide around without the pressure of landing jumps and practicing step sequences. It might be nice to skate without Yakov’s excessive barking the entire time,” he suggested, thinking about how it could be nice to be disgusting like Viktor and Yuuri and hold hands while they skated around. Like in the movies; Yuri was unsure if people actually did that or not in real life.

               Otabek found the way Yuri asked him to be charming. He was content with being the only person to see this side of the Russian punk. He noticed the change in attitude whenever he was present and how it switched instantly when another person entered the conversation. To make it blunt, Otabek felt like he had a special place in Yuri’s heart. Up until that week, he was sure the emotions they shared were that of friends. The way Yuri spoke, trying to play off his reasoning behind a persona, was an amusing note to him. He seemed to be hiding his nerves, Otabek was only just barely better at hiding that element from his partner.

“I’d like that,” he said, his gaze moving from the window to Yuri. He found Yuri frowning with furrowed brows, the expression softening to a soft smile. He had been staring the Kazakh down from across the table, arms crossed. Otabek had taken longer to answer than intended. Yuri looked cute when he pouted, Otabek concluded.

               Pushing up from the table, the emptied dishes were cleared away and put back onto the room service cart to be taken by the maids’ service. A full day lay ahead for the young couple, an official first date that was unlike any either had gone on before.

               The relationship was nothing new, just renamed and upgraded. Hand holding and kisses were acceptable, though there was the chance of these activities being called gross by Yuri before he went along with them. For such a date with peculiar parts, picking the appropriate attire was harder than normal for Yuri. By the time he had decided, Otabek had emerged from the bathroom fully dressed.

               His hair had been tightly braided against his scalp before the hair was made into a bun, secured with an elastic. Simple dark jeans and a V-neck long sleeved shirt that hugged him wonderfully clothed his body. Yuri ate up every detail, clutching his clothes to his chest, hair untamed still.

               Yuri shuffled by, stopping to kiss his shorter boyfriend. His lips were soft and tasted like mint. He smiled against the kiss as it was returned, feeling familiar hands on his waist. It was hard to resist temptation. The kiss turned into multiple, ending when Yuri drew back moments later. The bathroom door closed and Yuri readied for their first date.

~~~~

* * *

 

               The skaters each carried a bag on their shoulder containing their skates for their later activities. They stood so the bags weren’t in between them, walking with their fingers trailing over one another. Neither wore gloves, the cold winter air nipped at their fingers making them pink. The entrance to the subway wasn’t far, and once on their train, Yuri couldn’t help himself from gossiping to the other in his native tongue as they did whenever they were alone. Otabek mostly listened as Yuri relayed information about those they knew and mocked those dressed oddly on the train. Otabek pointed out that Yuri’s outfit wasn’t exactly normal to some, earning him a jab in the ribs not hard enough to hurt him. The ride was short, but what took the longest was figuring out how to get out of the station. Yuri used his phone to give them directions to their first destination.

               There was a bell above the door that jingled as they entered the café. Yuri was immediately drawn to the white, long haired, blue eyed cat that sat on the mat before the door. He bent down and picked up the cat into his arms, the cat friendly and greeting the guest.

“Beka I am taking her,” he stated, it was not a question in the slightest. The cat rubbed its head against Yuri’s chin, making the blonde smile.

Otabek didn’t say anything, guiding Yuri with a gentle hand on his back to the counter to order their tea and sweets. Yuri was quickly whisked away by his love of cats, leaving Otabek to order for them both.

“Yura, come sit with me,” Otabek said, sitting down at a two-person table close to where Yuri currently was. Yuri nodded, getting up from the couch after removing happy cats from his lap. He patted off his jeans to get rid of any fur before joining Otabek at the table.

               Two mugs of tea steamed on the table, small plates holding their cupcakes. Both were decorated to match the café’s theme. Yuri pulled out his phone, snapping a picture of the food, getting Otabek in the picture of course.

“Can I tag you?” he asked, tapping away on the keyboard as he uploaded the image to Instagram.  Otabek agreed and the image was uploaded with the caption of: _@otabek-altin took me to a cat café. Love it! #NYC #cats_

He slid his phone back into his pocket, going to unwrap his cupcake wrapper which was patterned with kitten footprints. “How is yours?” Yuri asked, noticing that Otabek already had a forkful of his rich dark chocolate cupcake. They were far too big to pick up and eat like a traditional cupcake; it was much easier to eat it like cake.

“Delicious,” Otabek said, a soft smile on his face as he watched Yuri take his first bite of the cupcake.

“I agree,” He said, getting another forkful and offering it to Otabek. “Try it.”

               Otabek leaned forward, letting Yuri feed him. A blush creeped onto Yuri’s face; this was the kind of disgustingly romantic things that Viktor and Yuuri would do. He did the same when Otabek offered him a forkful of his own cupcake. Yuri did as Otabek did, allowing the other to feed him. It was disgustingly romantic.

               They spent a good amount of time in the café, sipping tea and sitting on the couch petting the cats that came to join them. A tabby was particularly fond of Otabek, sitting on his thigh, expecting to be pet. Otabek’s other arm was around Yuri while the other pet every cat that came his way. Yuri had a big smile on his face as he told Otabek about how much he liked this place and wished to visit a cat café again the next time they were in the same place.

               They left with take-out cups of tea and tuffs of cat hair sticking to them, something Yuri wasn’t unfamiliar with. His own aging cat’s long hair was constantly stuck to his black clothing. They held hands, making their way by foot to the rink, deciding some window shopping and sight-seeing would be a good way to pass the time. Their noses were pink as they replenished their hot beverages at a street vendor.

               The sun had recently set as the rink came into view, orange and pink colors peeking out above the tall buildings. It was an odd feeling to come into a rink as if they were casual skaters rather than champions. They paid the over-priced admissions fees and soon were on the ice.

“This is the worst fucking ice I’ve seen,” Yuri scoffed as he got onto the well-used ice. The ice was torn up and rough everywhere he looked, nothing like his home rink. It was no wonder he saw people falling. At least it wasn’t completely awful. He had read the sign as they purchased their tickets, annoyed particularly by some of the rules written in large print.

               Yuri was on the ice well before Otabek, who insisted in putting their things in a safe place. This gave Yuri the chance to skate a handful of laps around the others in the rink. He stopped before the entrance as he saw Otabek coming onto the ice, stopping him for a picture.   


“This ice is not too good, but we can still enjoy this,” he informed, putting his phone away. Otabek nodded, starting to leisurely skate around the rink, Yuri by his side.

“Yura, do you think your fan club will find out that this is a date?”

               Yuri nodded. In truth his rambunctious fan club knew that Yuri had been interested in someone long before he was even sure he was interested in someone. It wouldn’t be long until they put two and two together.

“Most definitely,” Yuri stated, crinkling his nose a little. “They’ve got no fucking lives.”

               Neither was ready to make their relationship public and they certainly didn’t want to be exposed by Yuri’s Angels prematurely. Their relationship was a long time coming and it wouldn’t be the first time questions were asked about them being together. The difference was that they actually were together now. It was too early to think about how to handle such a situation, but rather handle it as it developed. For now, they wished to enjoy each other. They skated beside each other, Yuri smiling in a way he rarely did as he talked to Otabek.

“This is oddly relaxing,” Yuri commented, taking Otabek’s hand in his own. His fingers were cold too, Yuri noted, glancing at the other to see his reaction to an action as forward as that was. They had yet to hold hands, and it felt positively wonderful.

“It is,” Otabek confirmed, lacing their fingers together.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Thanks for making it this far, please please leave some feedback on this chapter. With college starting back up and a lack of interest in this from readers, I'm thinking of ending this fic after the next chapter or so.


	6. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes are always hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I haven't updated in nearly a month. I've been working on something big and kept forgetting about this fic.   
> I'm thankful that you've read this far, I know this fic wasn't the greatest or if it was the feedback certainly doesn't show it. But this is the end so that's not important anymore.

               Yuri’s hands trembled as he held onto Otabek’s jacket. They stood in the middle of a busy airport clutching onto each other for dear life. Their perfect week together was over and Otabek’s plane from St. Petersburg to Almaty would be departing soon.  They had flown together just to spend more time together. Yuri would miss this. Yuri would miss him. He’d miss the smell of his leather jacket, how Otabek would hold him, how they would laugh together. During the week they spent together, Otabek was the first thing he saw when he woke up and last thing he saw before going to bed.

               Nothing happened over the week besides showering together after being forced by their coaches to practice at a local rink. They were tired and spent far too long under the hot water soothing their aching muscles.

               Otabek ended the hug, Yuri’s hands lingering on his arms.

“Please don’t go,” Yuri said softly, letting his arms drop to his sides. He was almost home, but what was home without Otabek? Yuri could already feel the tingle of loneliness creeping up on him. He shoved his hands into the pocket of the green sweatshirt he wore, gaze falling to the floor. Yuri felt weak saying that, especially in a public place where people knew who he was. People would certainly see him begging his rival to stay. It felt like eternity since he said it; Otabek hadn’t replied at all.   
“Please don’t go, Beka,” Yuri said again, though in reality only a moment had passed since he said it.

“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t wear something more than that,” Otabek finally said, setting down his duffle bag onto the floor beside Yuri’s suitcase. He removed his jacket, putting the leather coat onto Yuri’s shoulders. “I’ll see you soon, Yura.”

               Yuri put his arms into the sleeves of the jacket; it was a little too big, but it was warm. The sleeves reached his palms and Otabek noted how good it looked on him. Yuri nodded slowly, hugging his shorter boyfriend once again.

“I’ll miss you,” he said quietly. It was always hard to say goodbye to Otabek, even when they were just friends. But as boyfriends, he was certainly allowed to cling and beg for him not to go. His apartment was just a little ways away. Otabek could just stay one more night.

               But it wouldn’t be just one more night. He’d wish and wish for more time with him. Otabek made him happy: that was the simple fact. He had been doing so for years.

“I’ll miss you too,” Otabek replied, pressing a kiss to Yuri’s lips. It wasn’t goodbye forever; it was goodbye for now. Yuri kissed back, not typically one for public displays of affection, but this was an exception. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before they could talk face to face again. As they parted ways, the loneliness grew for both of them. They had been together for just over a week and the distance between them would only grow.

               Yuri waited until he could no longer see Otabek. He grabbed the handle to his leopard print suitcase and went out to hail a taxi. He would see him soon, they’d video chat as soon as Otabek landed. Yuri had made him promise to do so.

               After the usual hassle of boarding a plane, Otabek sighed, relaxing once again into the seat of the airplane. He turned on his phone to busy himself while everyone boarded as well. He smiled to himself as notifications rolled in, all very recent.

               They were from Yuri; he was sending pictures of their trip to him one by one. The photos were of everything they did together, from their café date to visiting the typical tourist spots of the city. None were of the actual sights, but rather of them or just Otabek. His favorite were the sleepy morning selfies Yuri would take of them. He would hide his face in Yuri’s messy hair and Yuri would smile wide as he snapped dozens just to get the right angle.

               Yeah, he would miss that. Each one was saved and a new home screen image was set. It was one of their sleepy morning selfies, one where Otabek actually smiled for the camera instead of trying to go back to sleep. But it was still mostly of Yuri, it would be something nice to wake up to in replacement of the real one. He found himself unlocking his phone just to see the image. There was a lot to miss already, but they were both sure that they wanted to last despite the distance. The miles weren’t anything if what they had was destined to be.

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care!


End file.
